Monster's Remorse
by InzanityFirez
Summary: A glimpse into Dean's time in Hell, his love for his brother, and the moment that he finally lost his 'humanity'.


**I've been watching the Supernatural anime, and while it doesn't quite measure up to the show, it's made me really want to write about our favorite Winchester brothers. But I didn't have time to start a whole story, as much as I wanted to write both brothers, so I've settled for this. This is a look at Dean's time in Hell when he finally gave in, and his thoughts on his brother. And you might notice a bit of break/pause formatting, I thought it lent itself to the story a bit. XD**

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There were many theories Dean had heard of in regards to Hell. That it was fire and brimstone, demons and torture, utter, unimaginable pain, and eternal, damned misery. He'd never given it much thought, or considered that it might be right. And in fact, everything he'd heard about Hell was wrong.

Because it was much, much worse.

His first moments in Hell consisted of meeting his first 'cell mate'. As in, the Hellish black miasma wires that were driven in and out of him to create a suspended prison. It felt like jabbing hot pokers through his body, only they were writhing and got hotter rather than cooler. The air was thick and sulphuric; it burned his eyes, and filled his lungs with smoke. The damned shouldn't need to breathe, but it was part and parcel of the 'fun'.

And there was the time factor.

What was minutes, or hours, or days above...could be weeks, months, and years in Hell. Not that one could really tell. Eternal torment just sort of blended together. The excruciating, agonizing, endless pain...

But Dean didn't regret it.

He had done it for Sammy. For his brother. Every bit of pain that he endured was worth it for his brother, the only thing that meant any damned thing to him. He'd long abandoned his secret hopes for a family or a normal life. He'd lost his father. But Sammy, his baby brother, his partner...that was the one thing he refused to lose, even if it cost him his soul. Thoughts of Sam made his Hellish existence slightly more bearable. And he thought that his brother the last person or thing that he had to lose. But in that, he was wrong again. Dean had something else to lose.

His humanity.

Before Dean, yet again, a screaming, writhing prisoner of Hell cried out as he was whipped again and again. A fate that would soon be meted out to Dean, yet again. He was offered a choice everytime. He could be spared his pain, if he chose to inflict instead and everytime he declined. Dean would never sink so low, never become that vile, never betray himself and his family, and his father's teachings.

So he had thought.

Dean's body was scarred and bare, not a scrap of clothing on him. All dignity had been lost, all pride had been beaten out of him, his cries and tears ripped from him until he couldn't utter another gasping sound, couldn't shed a single drop. He was so utterly destroyed and humiliated, he had become scarcely more than sensations. He could be in pain, or he could be in agony.

A voice whispered silkily into Dean's ear, a demon. Alistair.

"It's okay, Dean...he's not like you, he's not good like you...you're here to save your brother, but he? He's just a murderer...a lowlife. He deserves to be punished. Take the whip, Dean, and teach him a lesson..."

"No..." Dean whispered weakly, not his emphatic, vehement responses of before.

The man before him cried out as he was whipped, he was new and unused to the torment. Dean watched him with hollow, broken eyes. He'd tried to stop the punishment once, and he'd had his neck broken for his troubles...he'd been healed, but only after a few weeks of his bent-neck torment.

He didn't make that mistake again.

"It's alright..." he cooed as he ran his claw-like fingers on Dean's bare back and sent a shiver of revulsion and light pain down his spine from his tender, torn flesh. "He deserves it."

"No." Barely a whisper.

There was a moment of silence before the demon sighed disappointedly. "As you like...take Dean to a station and this time...used the whip with the little iron spikes on the end. I like that one, it makes them bleed so nicely...then throw him in the pit...some time in the darkness might help illuminate his situation..."

Dean's eyes widened. "No!" he choked out as his arm was grabbed and he started to be led away. The pit. The inky black darkness of serpents and vermin, the fed on the flesh until there was almost nothing left before the prisoner was released to be healed again for later tortures. "Not again...not again...please...I'll...I'll do it!" he cried, and the demon holding his arm paused.

The demon tapped his lips thoughtfully. "Really...? I don't know, you turned me down before...that hurt my feelings."

"Please. Please, I'll do anything. Anything..." Dean couldn't take it. Not again...so many times...that darkness, that pain...he couldn't...

The male demon who'd held him shoved him forward and a whip was thrust into his hand. The tied up man looked up at him with fear-filled eyes. "N-No, please!" he cried as tears streamed down his cheeks. "I don't belong here! Please!"

"He's a murderer, Dean. Teach him a lesson." the demon instructed into his ear and his grip on the whip tightened. "Unless you'd rather go to the pit..."

Dean's hand rose into the air...and the whip cracked down on the man's flesh. Inexperienced as he was, he missed and hit the tender flesh of the stomach as the man's blood exploded onto his face. He gagged a bit and his grip started to falter when he felt the nails of the female demon dig into his shoulder and lifted his hand again. Another clumsy blow that split the man's lip and caused him to cry out. And another. Another.

The man screamed. "I only did it to save my daughter! I sold my soul for-" a hand smacked his face so hard a tooth came loose and clattered to the rocky floor.

Dean stiffened as the words registered in his dim, shattered mind. The man was innocent, at least, a little...he had sold his soul to save his daughter somehow. If he was a murderer, it probably wasn't in a criminal fashion. This man was somewhat innocent, at least. The man stared at him with pleading, tear-filled eyes, silently begging him to stop. "Please.." the man whispered.

The demon's nails still clenched his shoulder and he lifted his arm again. "No one is innocent." Dean whispered as all thoughts of his former life faded from his mind and he simply gave into the instinct for survival, the escape from pain, as he retreated into his own mind and gave into an animalistic urge brought on by the torments he'd endured. The man's blood splattered against him and his screams filled the air but Dean didn't stop, he only whipped harder, lost in his mindless, numb existence.

Sammy, his bright light, his hope, his heart, no longer existed, because Dean no longer existed. This was Hell.

And Hell was only for monsters.

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**Wow. XD That came out a bit bloodier and...um...morbidly than I'd envisioned. But yay! Very emotional. Dean's finally just broken to the point where he's just running on primitive instinct, he's had his humanity, his love beaten out of him. His shining light, his brother Sammy, is enshrouded in the darkness that's consumed him. Misery at it's potent best. Or something like that. XD Man, if Sam knew...jeez. XD~**


End file.
